Slickrock isn't slick. Cranking up an impossibly steep stone rise on our mountain bikes is like riding on 80-Grit sandpaper. But to the early Mormon traders who first came to Moab, Utah, some 150 years ago, riding not knobby-tired bikes but iron-shod horses, the exposed sandstone was like ice. Someone called the surface slickrock, and the name stuck.

Who could have guessed that Moab's signature feature would be the town's salvation? Certainly not the uranium miners, whose glory days ended three decades ago, along with the boomtown's fortunes. And probably not John Ford, the director who filmed several westerns among the area's dramatic stone features. If anyone deserves credit for Moab's current status as an adventure-sport hub, it's probably former mayor Harold Jacobs. In 1967, he had the idea to start the Easter Jeep Safari, utilizing the seemingly countless acres of empty slickrock backcountry. Word spread, and today, the Moab region abounds in outdoor possibilities not only for Jeepers, but for bikers, rafters, rock climbers, BASE jumpers and more, making the town a life-list destination for adrenaline junkies.

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The geography sets the stage. The Colorado River glides by the northern border. Desolate, rocky BLM land stretches for miles east and west. Canyonlands and Arches national parks lie to the southwest and north, respectively. An adventure-sport infrastructure of tour companies, guides and shops caters to all skill levels. But the best way to enjoy Moab is to arrive prepared. And we're prepared as few have ever been.

Yesterday, my friend and neighbor Chris Brown and I rolled down Moab's scruffy main street outfitted for an off-road fantasy camp. We packed not only two mountain bikes but also pairs of motorcycles, ATVs and jacked-up pickup trucks, ideal machines with which to experience Moab. Our mission is to ride four of Moab's iconic trails with four different machines in just four days.

Iconic and world-famous describes the Slickrock Trail, a mountain-bike route that winds though a maze of precipitous sandstone ridges and sweeping gullies. Naturally, that's where we head. Pedaling the Cannondale with Chris following on the GT, I climb the rock like a squirrel up a tree. Suddenly, there's a loud pop, and I turn just in time to see Chris fall over and slide down the hill.

He's unhurt, but he has somehow managed to break the GT's brand-new chain. I guess he had his Wheaties this morning. To fix the chain, we don't have to access our own tools because the Cannondale's unique one-sided fork leaves room in the head tube for a shockingly complete factory-supplied toolkit that includes a chain break. Less than 10 minutes later, we are back in action and cresting the hill.

The crux of the Slickrock Trail comes next: gliding down the backside and catching air off the ledges. These two bikes have over 5 inches of suspension travel, front and rear, so they spare us the pounding. Not too long ago, bikes built for this kind of downhill punishment came with a huge weight penalty. But neither of these bikes is a porker, especially the featherweight carbon-fiber Cannondale.

If there's a downside to full-suspension bikes, it's their tendency to bounce in time to pedal strokes, sucking precious energy. While both bikes do a fair job minimizing that effect, the GT's multilinked rear suspension seems especially stable.

We've got 27 gear ratios on call to minimize our effort, but after a couple of hours scampering up and down the hills, our hydration packs are spent, and we're sweating like Swedes in a sauna. Salvation is an expansive overlook that's as awe-inspiring as the Grand Canyon but free from busloads of tourists.

We've got a long, gradual descent ahead. Since we both have Y chromosomes, we wind up racing as we rocket down, dicing back and forth and launching off the natural rock steps. A few involuntary whoops are probably yelled, but thankfully no one's around to hear grown men howling like children. -->

THE RIDES

While this $5299 MTB is used-car pricey, it works brilliantly. Carbon-fiber frame tubes keep the weight to just 26.1 pounds, so this long-travel, mogul-capable ride feels as flickable as a BMX. The unique, single-side fork uses four needle-bearing sets to reduce friction and increase stiffness. One downside: Removing the front wheel requires an Allen wrench.

Be it suspension geometry or shock tuning--we're not sure which--the $3000 GT climbed almost as sure-footedly as a rigid bike, yet still cushioned Moab's endless steps. The kinked top tube leaves extra inseam space. It feels heavier than its 29.4-pound weight suggests, but is capable on any terrain.

GETTING STARTED

Mountain biking is both entertaining exercise and extremely accessible--all you need is a helmet and a bike. Ride often and you'll appreciate the quality of bikes that generally run $1000 and up. Places like Moab do not require expert skills--guides cater to all riders.

THE GEAR

Cycling shoes aren't necessary, but they are more efficient since they anchor a rider's feet to the pedals. The Lake Cycling MX330 MTB shoes ($200) have the Boa lacing system that effortlessly cinches with a heel-mounted knob. The Osprey Talon 11 ($89) waterpack has a drink-valve-securing magnet and a large screw-on filling port.

To film our exploits, we used GoPro's new $300 HD Hero. This lightweight unit shoots HD video and stills and records to an SD card. Optional mounts allow multiple recording angles. The rechargeable lithium-ion battery lasted almost an hour during our outings. Although the user interface isn't intuitive and the sound quality is poor, the Hero takes great videos.

Four-Wheeled Mountain Goats

If Slickrock offers the iconic mountain-bike experience, the nearby Fins and Things Trail seems almost custom-made for ATVs. The trail starts gently enough, but less than a mile in, I'm faced with a 15-foot-tall mound of solid rock. Tire-track evidence suggests that the trail climbs the mound's steep face, but from my vantage point it looks unscalable. Thankfully, we've got high tech on our side. Both the Suzuki KingQuad 750 and the Yamaha Grizzly 700 FI pack independent suspensions, CVT gearboxes, fuel injection, four-wheel drive, crawler gears and even power steering.

I gear the Suzuki down to low range, engage 4WD with the button and nudge the front tires to the sandstone. It's time to attempt the ascent. I gingerly press the gas, and, to my great relief, the big quad effortlessly climbs. Chris follows without drama.

We skip the high-fives because after traversing the top of the rock, the trail descends an even steeper, perfectly smooth pitch that ends abruptly at the sand floor. I set off the edge and pray that the crawler gear and engine braking will do their job. And what about the brakes? True, there are powerful disc binders on call, but I worry a panic grab might send me sailing over the handlebars. Better to let Mr. KingQuad deftly handle the tricky bits. Now I know why this popular trail earned a "Most Difficult" rating.

We motor onto the first fin, a tall, thin rock formation, like the dorsal fin on a supersize sailfish. Straddling the route markings is critical: The ridge is 50 feet high and barely wide enough for the ATVs. Our balloon tires--inflated to just 5 psi--grip the slickrock like an octopus on a clam. We're finally comfortable enough that we relax a bit and take in the stunning vistas that the ATVs have carried us to. The snowcapped La Sal Mountains majestically peak at over 2 miles above sea level to the southeast. To the north, there's a heaving field of slickrock stretching as far as we can see.

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A few miles later, we're in a sand wash with a series of banked turns. Now on the Yamaha, I switch out of four-wheel drive to see if this big brute has some moves. With techniques I learned from riding a three-wheeler as a kid, I turn, weight the inside peg and goose the gas. The rear end gracefully drifts out, proving that these workhorses can play too.

I caution Chris, who doesn't have the benefit of my misspent youth, not to copy my moves. But back in the dirt parking lot, he tries the fishtail maneuver and is promptly pitched--harmlessly--off the side.

That's my signal to call it a day. After all, at the Red Cliffs Lodge, our home base, there's a fire burning, and it's kick-back time. -->

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THE RIDES

The Suzuki's 722-cc single-cylinder engine uses rubber mounts and balance shafts to reduce vibration. With a locking center differential, a low-range gearbox and independent suspension, there are few places this $9099 machine can't go.

Despite its smaller 686-cc engine, the Yamaha doesn't feel less powerful than the Suzuki, because it's about 50 pounds lighter. This $9899 quad, however, is more nimble and extremely sure-footed. Crawling over rocks never required locking the center diff. Both ATVs have digital fuel gauges--a nice touch.

GETTING STARTED

With comfortable riding positions and automatic transmissions, ATVs are easy to operate. Mastering them safely is another matter. Helmets, goggles, boots and gloves are the bare-minimum safety gear. And keep kids off the big machines. Training is always a good idea. Check out atvsafety.org.

THE GEAR

To communicate on the trail, we installed the Cardo Systems Scala Rider Q2 communication gear ($155) in our helmets. This hardware allows clear, natural conversation. Garmin's $500 Oregon 550 handheld GPS not only tracks a route, it also takes pictures and tags the location.

Two-Wheeled Terrors

I blame the muffler. Outwardly, the Kawasaki KLX450R's rear pipe looks conventional enough, but inside there's trickery. A series of baffles quiets this beast to the point where you forget that it has enough power to separate shoulders. And so I crack open the throttle at the worst possible moment, oblivious to the horses cocked and ready to flee the paddock.

We're on the Onion Creek Trail, a seemingly harmless and loamy dirt road that snakes along another of the area's numerous canyons. A half-hour ago, we started near the point where the flowing creek empties into the Colorado River and headed uphill. I believed I had a good handle on the green machine. Its punchy 450-cc four-stroke effortlessly lifted the front wheel over the multiple water crossings. On the switchbacks, I even sliced the turns with the throttle pinned open and the rear tire spitting loam and sliding wide, dirt-track style. The Kawie was making me look good.

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But now, not so much. The road here is steep and in a deep, narrow and shaded part of the canyon. Despite the warning signs of visible breath and the lack of sunlight, I don't anticipate that the surface has turned from loose, moist dirt to frozen hardpack. And probably because I'm too engrossed in the bike's talents, I also fail to notice that the side of the trail butts a 50-foot cliff off the creek bed.

With my blissful ignorance, I lean into the left bend--which naturally lacks a catch fence--and enthusiastically twist the throttle.

Bad move: The surface is Antarctica-frozen. The rear end rockets out and down I go. Now I'm sliding to the rapidly approaching edge. Man, I hope I signed that life-insurance form. My fate lies in two 6-inch-tall rocks that arrest my slide less than a foot from the edge.

As Chris helps me to get upright, he says, "And to think I thought this trail was a cakewalk." And herein lies a Moab central truth: No matter how innocuous the situation seems, disaster is never far off.

We switch bikes. What the Honda CRF250X lacks in power compared to the bigger-engined Kawasaki, it compensates for with puppy-dog friendliness. It's roughly 25 pounds lighter and so lithe and agile you could mistake it for a motorized mountain bike.

After 10 miles, we're above the canyon on the flat, wide floor of Fisher Valley. The road forks, and we stop to consider our options--climb the Cottonwood or Thompson canyons or simply head back to town.

Chris, gnawing a PowerBar, says, "After what happened back there, you want to go farther from civilization?" I look over at him and say, "I heard they found gold in Cottonwood." -->

THE RIDES

Docile for beginners, but quick enough to entertain experienced riders, the $7149 CRF250X could be the best all-around dirt bike. The 26-hp four-stroke engine uses an offset single overhead cam to save weight and space. The controls work with silky smoothness. We found only one flaw: The seat-to-foot-peg relationship is cramped for tall riders.

A lightly civilized race bike with an explosively powerful but easy-to-stall 40-hp engine. Fits taller riders well and has well-modulated controls. As in the Honda, electric start and electronic ignition ease cold starting. The $7499 KLX can be ridden by novices, but is best suited to experienced hard chargers.

GETTING STARTED

As we found, eventually you're going to fall, so plan on spending at least another $1000 for a complete set of safety gear. A riding school will dramatically shorten the learning process. Find a training program near you at dirtbikeschool.com.

THE GEAR

After safety, the next consideration is comfort. Alpinestars Tech 10 boots ($580) are like fleece-lined slippers compared to others we've tried. We also liked Arai's VX Pro 3 helmet ($485). It's light and has a large eyeport and a removable, washable liner.

Fear of Heights

Trucks don't do backflips, I think as the Dodge's nose bounces off the rock step and heads skyward. A minute ago, everything was cool as I inched up a stone hill so steep I'd need a rope and belay to climb it on foot. This rock face in Moab is known as the Gates of Hell, and more than one rock crawler has gone ass over backwards attempting this very ascent.

Trying to creep over the step, I foolishly goosed the gas--the Hemi V8 enthusiastically responded. And just like that, I'm doing a wheelie in a 3-ton truck. The Dodge teeters on the rear wheels, hanging there, as the hand of gravity decides my fate.

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And so we introduce today's festivities: A crash course in mainlining adrenaline while moving at a walking pace. The fun--or terror, depending on where you sit--began long before that rock step as we inched the Dodge Power Wagon and the Ford Raptor onto the first fin of the Hell's Gate Trail.

High up in the truck cabs, where visibility is limited, climbing these rocks is even more unsettling than on the ATVs. Whenever the front end climbs a bump on the already steep hill, only the hood and blue sky are visible. You then envision that you've drifted from the trail route and are about to drive off the side to disaster. On the ATVs we believed we could jump to safety. Here, we're locked in, certain victims of our own mistakes.

Keeping us and these pricey trucks intact falls on Dan Mick, an experienced rock crawler we hired. He guides us over obstacles and rock formations that at first glance appear to be impassable to our unprotected stock trucks. But under his careful eye, both trucks tackle obstacles we didn't think possible.

After an hour of inching and jostling on the slickrock, we arrive at the overlook that marks the Gates of Hell. This optional diversion travels down a horrifyingly steep, lumpy rock gorge, makes a hairpin turn at the bottom, and then comes up an equally intimidating ascent.

After a dicey descent taken mostly on three wheels, I nose the Dodge onto the hill. With steady throttle pressure--you're like a drifting canoe, Mick instructs--I inch upward to the last rock step.

And now I'm nearly vertical, wondering which way this is going to go. Whether it's karma or just plain luck, the front end falls back onto the rock, and I scramble the final few feet to the summit, panting heavily. Chris effortlessly makes it up. "You're a natural," Mick tells him. Quite a humbling moment for me, the supposed professional of the two. But that's the beauty of Moab: No matter your skill level, you will find challenges that make you feel like a beginner, and thrills that will last a lifetime.

THE RIDES

It absorbs jumps like a motocross bike, rock-crawls like a Jeep and plies highways in comfort. While the exhaust sounds righteously throaty, the $38,995 320-hp Raptor could use more power. That will be fixed this year with an optional 411-hp 6.2-liter V8. Either way, we want one.

With charismatic toughness, the $45,780 Power Wagon comes loaded with off-road gear. Solid front and rear axles have electronically locking differentials. With the flip of a switch, the front antiroll bar can be coupled to allow full articulation. And if you get stuck, there's a 12,000- pound winch to haul you out.

GETTING STARTED

As with all off-roading, it's imperative to use areas designated for motorized vehicles. Once at a suitable location, travel straight up and down hills to avoid sliding down sideways or, worse, a tip-over. Lower your tire pressure to increase traction. And since the steering wheel can kick back violently, don't wrap your thumbs around the wheel.

THE GEAR

Warn's Winch Kit ($213) includes tow straps, hooks and even gloves. It's a must-have. Oakley's Jawbone glasses ($205) adapt to any lighting with hinged lower frames that make for painless lens changing. Sierra Designs' Fresco jacket ($149) is thinner and lighter than a sweatshirt, but the effective PrimaLoft insulation retains heat like a parka.